Speculative Fiction Writer

Feb 26, 2013

Next up is Bryn by Vampire Weekend. Can't quite remember how this song came to be on my iTunes, but I can't say I regret it.

I knew from a young age the only job
that would satisfy me was something with lots of violence. The army
would work, lots of gun and killing for glory, but the action wasn't
constant outside of a war. And while I loved the idea of being on
the front lines I knew no war was forever and eventually I would need
more violence.

It was a necessary as air for me to
keep my sanity. I had to fight, and if possible use explosives to do
it.

I joined the army anyway way. I managed
to earn a reputation as a pyromaniac, trigger happy, son-of-a-bitch,
but still made it to the elite forces. But the violence wasn't
enough, the missions my unit went on were too passive and too few.
As the years went on I needed more and more violence to calm 'my'
soul and when I couldn't get it from missions I turned on my unit. I
blew up our safe house, 10 pounds of C4, on a mission in Turkey. I
had put a mug under each of their beds before pressing the trigger to
collect blood. Only two didn't break, and neither were full –
should have used bowls instead for a wider collection hole – but I
drank the blood they collected nonetheless.

Needless to say, I was declared rouge
and became a wanted criminal.

Working freelance was much more my
style. A kill almost every week, once I had built up a clientele.
There was no need for a vacation, killing, and killing violently, was
my joy. I gained a reputation for dealing out gruesome deaths of
fire.

But then, on a hit in Tokyo, I saw you.
And I knew you were different, like me. You weren't in possession
of your own soul either.

I followed you, trying to figure out
your past life. I never say you angry, even though your job as a
peacekeeper for the UN had to be stressful. And you had a sucker's
heart, you might have suspected that the poor kid trying to selling
you gum was going to pick your pockets, but you bought from him
anyway. You also has a soft spot for young girls, enough where I
would have called you a lesbian pedophile if I hadn't watched you
take men to bed.

In addition, you were paranoid about
your health. You only drank filtered water, and had a portable filter
for when you wanted water from the tap. Your bathroom mirror had a
supply of vitamins behind it and you only bought organic.

I broke into your hotel room one night,
you were in Beirut and hoping to help with peace talks between
Israel and Palestine – again. I took one look at you, with your
pale skin, bleach blonde hair, and sapphire eyes, and revealed you as
soon as you walked in the suite and saw me sitting on the middle of
your bed.

“You're a unicorn.”

And you just stared at me and said
“You're a dragon.”

I hadn't been aware of you watching me
as I watched you, so something had to have given me away. Maybe you
could smell the blood on me from a recent kill, or maybe you had
sensed the danger you were walking into and picked the most dangerous
mythical creature known to be reborn into a human. Or maybe it was a
power of unicorns, to know what type of mythical soul they were
looking at. There wasn't much information about any type of mythical
soul, it was possible.

I had only been identified as a dragon
twice before. Once by myself when I realized where my violent
tendencies came and another when I killed another mythical soul. A
phoenix, who when he came back to life knew what I was. In both
cases, the realization had been met with a display of what it might
mean to be a dragon. As a human, 'my' soul couldn't fly but it still
belonged to a dangerous predator who knew its was around fire, quick
strikes, and long blades.

But you, when you said it I did not
feel the need to show just what being a dragon meant. You, or maybe
your other soul, had looked past that to the darkness at my core, at
your core. All mythical creatures are of a darker nature than
others, human or animal, even one as peace loving as a unicorn.
Their souls were born in a darker time, where they weren't allowed to
live in peace. Mine is full of violence and yours, yours is full of
self loathing because you know most maidens present a trap but you
walk to them anyway because you can't help it.

Unlike medieval times, were your pure
soul would call out to a match in a human, in these times your match
is me and other mythical souls, those as dark like yours, even if the
shade is blacker.

I don't know what that connection felt
like to you, on that one night we met and stayed awake in the bed and
destroyed the pillows I'm sure the staff thought we would use for
sleeping, but to me it felt as close to home as I had been since
before I set the kitchen table on fire and my parents sent me to a
boarding school for difficult children. I felt fully human,
something I never thought I would ever feel again.

But the next morning, you were gone
before I woke up and left a note saying that while you knew I could
find you again you would appreciate it if I didn't. Next time, you
would do the finding.

And I was okay, if it was you
following, but not someone else. Still, I was terribly upset at
losing you even though I never learned your name. I blew up a bank,
I'm sure you've seen it in the news. And I've found myself since you
left needing violence even more to placate the dragon soul inside of
me. You've looked at it, seen the darkness deep inside, and still saw
something that could be called light inside. Now that you're gone and
can no longer hint at that light, the darkness of 'my' soul is inkier
than ever and my kills are more bloody.

Come back, unicorn. I promise I won't
use you for your powers, I truly do. I just want the light back, it
makes me sane in a way violence no longer does. The dragon is
consuming me and it's only thoughts of you that keep me from giving
in. Come back, unicorn.